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Archive for May, 2008

Anatomy of a toilet

So, as much as I try to be independent and stuff, there is always something I wish I could rent-a-dude for…. this time around… my toilet. Eww. Toilets gross me out in general for obvious reasons.

The other day I came home and noticed it wouldn’t flush. At first, I thought, ‘Hmm..maybe it’s taking a nap, and will be as good as new if I just leave it alone.’

Ya, obviously that’s some wishful thinking. So I open the tank and find that the lever thingy is broken and needs to be replaced. I come up with the brilliant idea that maybe electrical tape will hold it for now. Yep. I’m no plumber, you know. I can build an entire bedroom set from scratch, but toilets, nah. So then I wonder if maybe since the lever thingy is plastic, and managed to come of with a pretty clean break, I could super glue it temporarily. Seriously. Stop laughing at me. Really. Stop.

So picture this. I’m squirting the super glue onto the plastic lever thingy, not realizing that it was dripping happily down my fingers. It took some tearing to get my fingers unstuck from the lever, but then I noticed the glue had dried nicely all over my hand… fantastic. I rack my brain trying to think of who I can convince to come and have fun with my toilet. Then, a friend reminds me of that wonderful thing called….

Wait for it……

The internet. Duh. To my own defense, I’ve been so drained from work lately that my brain goes on vacation by the time I get home. Really, it does.

So I google, ‘get super glue off my hand’ and for future reference (that is, if you’re brain ever goes on vacation) nail polish remover works wonders for super glue. Then I google, ‘fix my toilet lever thingy’ and ta-dah! a wonderful little YouTube video walks me through every step. Unfortunately this still means I have to do it myself, but at least I know I don’t have to rent-a-dude, unless, that is, if I want to.

So even with all of this information, I still rise as the procrastination champion (mainly because my foot hurts too much to get the hardware store), since my toilet still doesn’t have a new lever thingy, but instead, a string tied to a hanger. For real, stop pointing and laughing, or I’ll punish you by making you fix my toilet.

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For serious?

I’m having one of those Monday’s. Well… one of those months… er… couple months? Right. You know, the kind where every little thing makes your blood boil? Yep. Those kind of days are fan-freaking-tastic.

Sometimes I’m pretty impressed with my ability not to freak out on a complete stranger. Mostly the urge to freak is for good reason though, I swear. Really. Most of the time.

For instance, take today’s subway ride. I got a pretty sweet standing spot, pole and all. Behind me stood Miss Thang with her designer everything (fine by me) and her token blue Tiffany’s paper bag (that I’m assuming holds her lunch). People do that you know. I see the same people carry the same <fill in the blank> paper/plastic bag to work everyday and by all means, all the power to you. Some bags are built to last a nuclear explosion, and that’s just damn wonderful, but all I ask is that you keep them to yourself.

So Miss Thang is standing there, reading and swinging her Token Tiffany back and forth, coincidentally right against my bare leg, over and… over…. and over…. and over… (it’s not like she didn’t know…I mean, come on). So, I take the initiative and move over slightly (only so much moving room during rush hour). Of course I make sure I manage a to shoot her one of those looks that says,

‘If you touch my leg again with your stupid bag, I’ll snatch that sucker and have my way with it. For serious.’

So, like I said, I moved over. Then she moves over. Again with the bag. And again and again and again.

So, fine. You want to play this game, huh?

I just ‘happen’ to decide it’s time for me to face the other direction, and just ‘happen’ to pivot and swing my computer and purse right into the knee cap of Miss Thang. Oops. I was really aiming for the Token Tiffany. Really, I swear. I would have found much more pleasure in an ‘accidental’ rip of the bag instead of a jolt in the knee cap (so, that doesn’t make me as horrible of a person, right?) Damn. Maybe next time.

To pay me back for my wrongful ways, Karma got on the next stop and rubbed her alcohol-stenched, dirt-drenched massive backpack repeatedly on my freshly Febreezed cute little blazer. Awesome.

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